Feanor stares in horror at the elf before him. In morbid wonder, he questions when did the elf he called father turned into this monster who would condemn his own wife, Feanor▓s mother, the Lady of the Nolder √ Mirel. And now he asks his son to dance on his mother▓s grave. He would not! Could not!
His father is saying something but he does not hear. What is there left to say after all that has happened.
The bond between lovers of the Firstborn would normally in the event of the death of one lead to the fading of the other.
When Finwe reached for his son, the hand was up before Curufinwe even had to think, the words yelled from the depths of grief and despair. ⌠Don▓t touch me, you murderer!■
Stun silence.
Aghast, adar & ion stare at each other and somehow knew that they have broken something irreplaceable that can never be mend in all the ages of Arda.
With a start, Feanor came to consciousness, heart beating wildly. He sat up, gaze darting about the room. Then with recognition, came memory, came relief.
He was in his own room, his father had summon him to the study. Finwe had spoken and Feanor had feign ignorance. The Spirit of Fire could feel the anger escalating at such alarming speed within, the latter had feared what he himself, would do when the fury reached it▓s height.
Then Finwe had asked that question and Feanor had shouted that al statement that almost became a catalyst for... Only the strong love for his father that had held him back for so long, gave him a sudden flash of clarity just as he was about to speak the unforgivable words that laid hidden deep within his heart for so long. That moment was all he needed to make himself flee the study before he hurt himself and his father.
And now here he was in the cottage his mother had kept in a hidden corner of the castle. He has fled here many a time when the fact that his father had indirectly murdered his mother became too heavy a burden to bear. Finwe does not visit this place and none of the servants dare so he was safe.
Safe enough that he could grieve, without anyone know the hate he tries not to show towards his adar. Hate that constantly threatens to erupts to the surface like earlier in the study, that even now haunts his dreams of what could be. Feanor curled in and bit his lips as he wept silent bitter tears.